


hold me close, sway me more

by anna_kat



Series: Ward x Simmons Ship Week [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ward x Simmons Ship Week, wsshipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_kat/pseuds/anna_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant Ward has never enjoyed undercover work. Until Jemma Simmons shows up in an evening gown, anyway.</p><p>For the theme 'undercover'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me close, sway me more

**Author's Note:**

> From day three of WardxSimmons Ship Week back in February, for the _undercover_ theme.

He _hates_ undercover.

Grant’s supposed to be Skye’s date to this ridiculously fancy gala, and she’s actually been doing well. Or at least she’s not driving him insane like her non-aliased self would be by now in regular circumstances.

No, the one driving him insane is at a table across the room dressed in an evening gown with a lace overlay that clings to her all the way down until it flares around her thighs. It’s got a back that the girls were gushing about while they were getting ready, called something fancy that shows more of her shoulders and back than he’s ever seen before. It’s white and stunning and it makes him want to see her in another kind of white dress. (That thought, in turn, makes him want to smack himself because what has she turned him into, some kind of Disney prince?)

Clearly, whatever lessons she’s been taking part in via Skye and May to be better in the undercover missions are paying off. She’s turned her chair toward the center of the hall, somehow managing to look like she’s fitting in with the upscale crowd while simultaneously being bored with it. One leg is crossed over the other while she swirls the wine her glass. When did she get good at this and why can’t he stop watching her?

He’s supposed to be doting on his fake date, and he’s failing.

Skye notices. “You look like a puppy.”

Grant narrows his eyes. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

The hacker just narrows her eyes back. “Well, we’re technically off the clock now, aren’t we?” She pulls a USB drive from the front of her dress - “Very professional,” he gripes - and waves it about a little. “I got the data and the dudes have already left the party none-the-wiser. AC said to enjoy ourselves since we- where are you going?”

When he’d first seen Jemma enter the room that night, he hadn’t expected to get any kind of off-duty time in the slightest. Now, however, it’s right in his grasp.

She seems surprised to see him in front of her, her nose crinkling in the way that is so familiar to him that his chest aches a little. Like he’s missed her while she’s been sitting across the room behaving as though she was someone else.

“Well, hello there, sir.” She speaks softly, smoothing her expression out. “May I help you with something, then?”

He cracks a grin. “Walsh and Mercer left and Skye got the files. Coulson says we’re off the clock.”

Jemma’s entire face lights up suddenly, and he feels himself relax at the sight. It’s like she’s come back to him. “Really? So I can actually drink some of this?”

Grant smiles a little wider. “Actually, I was hoping you’d like to dance.”

Her grin shrinks a bit and he feels a cold weight sinking into his stomach at the sudden thought that maybe the bantering and sort-of flirting for the past couple months didn’t really mean anything from her.

She looks toward the other side of the table where May appears to be telling Fitz the state of their mission. “Oh, I’d love to, I really would, it’s just that I promised Fitz a dance as well, he’s actually very good at the waltz you know, of course I promised him that while we were still undercover, so maybe he just asked for show or something-”

“Jem.” He interrupts carefully. Her cheeks suddenly turn a very lovely shade of pink, possibly at the shortened version of her name. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Jemma. You can dance with Fitz, I just thought I’d, uh… ask.”

He’s about to back away and hang his head in embarrassment when May appears beside them. “I’m gonna take Fitz off your hands, Simmons. Go on.”

“Oh, thank you, Agent May!” Jemma says, turning back to a profoundly surprised Grant. “Is your offer still good?”

He looks down at her, all rosy cheeks, bright smile, and white lace. “Of course.”

“Wonderful.” She puts her hand in his and follows him onto the floor.

He’s suddenly very aware that he has to actually hold her close to do this, but he shakes off the bout of nerves and reaches for her waist. Her hand goes to his shoulder and they start to move around the floor while he tries to ignore the warmth of the bare skin he can feel on her back.

“I like your dress.” He says quietly, gazing down at her again.

Her eyes are bright and warm. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? I was stuck between this one and a pretty yellow one, but this one has the keyhole back, which I just adore…” She bites her lip. “I’m rambling on again, aren’t I? May actually helped me pick it out, if you’ll believe that.”

Grant lets his fingers stroke along her back for a moment. “She’s full of surprises today, isn’t she?” He nods over her shoulder. “Look.”

He spins them a little so she can see what he’s looking at. She giggles. “That’s quite a sight.”

May and Fitz are waltzing around the perimeter of the floor, the engineer a bright shade of red but apparently holding his own. He’s leading, at least.

“Shame Coulson wouldn’t let Skye bring her camera.” Jemma grins. She’s actually shaking with laughter a moment later when Coulson cuts in to twirl May away, leaving Skye to take up Fitz. If possible, he turns even redder. “Oh, the poor thing. He’s not particularly used to interacting with women.”

Grant looks back to her. “He’s with you all the time.”

She meets his eyes. “Yes, but I don’t count as a woman.” When his eyebrows go up, she smiles. “Not to Fitz, at least.”

“Right. Well, you’re definitely a woman to me.” Oh, he hadn’t meant to say that. Jesus.

He also didn’t know he still had the capacity to blush like an awkward teenager.

She’s looking down at her feet, or where her feet would be if the length of her gown wasn’t in the way. He’s afraid he’s made her uncomfortable, but she looks back up with a smile, taking her hand off his shoulder to tug at the lapels of his tux. “This is a beautiful tuxedo. You look very dashing.”

He wants to reciprocate the compliment. He’s already told her he likes her dress, and her hair is lovely, her makeup is lovely, but it’s all rubbish compared to her. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”

Jemma looks caught between crying and a face-splitting smile. Letting go of his hand, she loops both arms around his neck and tugs him down a little to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” She mumbles in his ear.

His arms secure themselves around her back and he presses his forehead to hers and keeps dancing.

Sometimes, he _loves_ undercover.


End file.
